Good Spikes
by Sidelabel
Summary: Hermione ventures on an adventure with a new hair style, and pays the price and reaps the rewards. A Hermione's Horrid Haircut challenge.


Story Title: Good Spikes, Part # 1

Rating: PG-13

A "Hermione's Horrid Haircut" challenge fic.

Word count for this installment: 2089

Running Total no. of words for entire story: 2089

- -

Hermione didn't know what had made her do it. Maybe it had just been one of those _moments, _like when she had saved Harry and Ron from certain punishment in that bathroom with the troll in their first year at Hogwarts. It had been spontaneous and…._rebellious. _It wasn't often that she got to let her hair down, so to speak. And it also felt good to be something different that her parents darling, _perfect_, little Hermione. Oh it had felt _good_.

She wondered briefly what Harry and Ron would think of her new hair. She absolutely _adored_ it herself; the woman at the saloon had done a really great job. She had it all planned out in her head; the morning after the welcoming feast she would come down to breakfast and greet them. She was sure they'd be stunned. Who wouldn't be?

She found herself spending more time in front of the mirror in the mornings and evenings studying her hair, and as time went by she started to feel as if she would look like some sort of…well like those witches who ( Mrs. Weasly) had admired Lockhart because he was so stunningly handsome. But Harry and Ron would never think of her in that way, would they? Certainly not, she told herself.

By the time the end of break came around, Hermione was bursting with confidence. Her hair had had time to grow over the weeks, and even though it was no longer as short as it had been, she was no longer a walking bush. Even the fuzzy curls seemed to have disappeared. Looking at herself in the mirror one last time before leaving for London, Hermione felt proud; the new, short, and slightly spiked hair at the top would have made Tonks jealous.

Of course, she couldn't reveal the big _secret _to Harry and Ron before the time was right, so she had gotten herself a wig that she could wear until the perfect moment. It wasn't perfect, and most people would be able to tell that something was wrong in comparison to her old hair, but she could always blame it on a bad hair day.

Seeing everyone onboard the Hogwarts Express was not as enjoyable as she had hoped it would be. Ron was his same, loud-mouthed, annoying self, and so were Ginny, Neville, and Luna (although not quite normal in Hermione's eyes). Harry wasn't though, and everybody felt it. He didn't speak much, and seemed very gloomy. Their compartment took on a very melancholy feeling throughout the whole ride to Hogwarts. But it was no enough to dampen Hermione's excitement at revealing her new _wonderful _hair to her best friends.

The Sorting Hat had not branched out this year, but instead delved into the finer and not-so-fine qualities of the Founding Four. Harry was still gloomy and depressed by the end of the feast, and he hardly seemed to hear Dumbledore's announcements. Hermione felt for him; she really did. She too had lost someone close when she was much younger than now, and she had cried and cried. She had never seen Harry cry, and felt a pang of sympathy. It was obvious that Harry felt as though he couldn't afford to cry; she knew that the fate of the world rested on Harry's shoulder (it was obvious, really! Whom else?) and she was sure he was thinking that he had be strong, hard. Even the strongest man needed a shoulder to cry on sometimes.

Strangely enough, no one had asked about her hair. The wig certainly gave the appearance of it not being up to usual standards, but everyone would realize that…wouldn't they? Harry and trotted straight to his bed after the feast, and Ron had followed soon after. Feeling strangely alone, she was quite surprised when a hand suddenly grabbed her arm and practically dragged her up to the girl's dormitories.

"Ginny!" she squealed as the door shut behind her. "Don't startle me like that, honestly, almost made my heart stop for a minute." Ginny didn't say anything, and it irritated Hermione. Opening her mouth to snap at her (nevermind that Ginny was a prefect as well), she was cut off as Ginny said one word.

"Harry."

Hermione knew right then and there that she and Ginny were in for a long talk about their favourite wizarding hero.

- -

Hermione walked down to breakfast with her wig the next morning; not a single head turned towards her like she had pictured it, but the day would come. Oh yes it would, and it would be glorious!

The day was, in all honesty, with all things considered, a complete disaster. She had been surprised that Harry had managed to get into Snape's Advanced Potions class, but after their first double period with him (thank god Ron hadn't taken the class as well) Harry had managed to get himself into detention and lose twenty points as well. She was furious at Snape. Snape knew just as well as she did that Harry didn't need any more to deal with at the moment, yet Snape took every advantage he was given to get back at his old rivals and one of their sons; he revelled in it, and she hated him for it. She had tried to comfort Harry, but his sad and empty eyes had made a lump get stuck in her throat, and it had been Harry who had ended up patting her on her back and telling her it would be alright.

Returning to the common room that evening, Hermione felt just as gloomy and sad as Harry did. _Why you, Sirius, _she thought as she walked through the open portrait. She found her friends over by their favourite chairs; Ron was playing chess with Ginny (and was surprisingly having a hard time) while Harry was leaning back in a puffy armchair, reading what looked to be potions book. She grabbed a cushion and sat down next to Ron and Ginny (with a book, of course) and watched them, giving Harry glances every now and then; he was so quiet that she often wondered if he had fallen asleep.

She was caught in one of those moments, staring at Harry's deep rings underneath his eyes, the tight lines at the corner of his eyes, the sad curving of his lips, and feeling the greatest pity for him, when Ron threw up his hands and yelled, "Yes! Checkmate!"

It took Hermione a second to realize what had happened, but by then it was too late. A thick curl of the wig had gotten caught around Ron's thumb, and was now dangling from his raised fist. The others seemed to realize what had happened a split second later as well and there was an eerie silence; even Harry had come out of his deep, depressing thoughts.

Ron, Ginny and Harry seemed stunned; Hermione felt her eyes grow wide as she looked at her friends in turn, first Ginny, then Ron, and finally Harry. Oh how her cheeks burned! She would have loved nothing else than to run straight up to her room and hide herself underneath the blankets (it wasn't the perfect moment!), but her legs felt frozen, rooted to the floor.

The silence was broken by Ron snorting loudly, and as she looked at him, it was clear that he was fighting for dear life to hold back the laughter that was rushing to the surface. He failed miserably, and burst out laughing, howling at the top of his lungs. She felt her cheeks grow hotter; her whole face felt as if it was on fire. She looked pleadingly at Ginny, but Ginny was giggling madly. Desperatly, she turned her eyes on Harry, but Harry only looked stunned, but he wasn't laughing. With a wail she found the strength to move her legs, and fled to her room as fast as her legs would carry her, chased by Ron's laughter.

Unfortunately, it didn't keep quiet, and when Hermione walked into the hall for breakfast the next morning (with the wig) laughter rippled through the people. She felt her cheeks grow hot again, and fled outside to the grounds. She felt horrible; no one must like her new hair, not even her best friends, and she knew Ron must have been spreading the word. She found a nice, dark spot underneath an oak tree to hide in. She couldn't could her feelings back though, and almost as soon as she had sat down the dam broke and tears flooded down her cheeks.

"Here, I brought you some breakfast." The voice startled here, and she jerked her head up. Harry was squatting down in front of her, holding out some pieces of buttered toast.

When she took them he sat down next to her; she almost felt like telling him to go, but his silence stopped her. When her tears stopped coming she found herself nibbling on the pieces of toast hungrily, and she kept looking at Harry curiously out of the corner of her eyes, but he didn't say or do anything. It tasted good; she was really hungry, actually.

Suddenly Harry spoke, and she jumped; he had been so quiet. "Why did you cut your hair, Hermione?"

She found she didn't have an answer, and had to think a while before answering. "For you."

It was only after saying those words she realized how they might be interpreted; she had meant for him and Ron. She blushed deeply. She was quite startled, however, when she felt Harry's lips pressed softly against blushing cheek, but before she could react he was whispering softly in her ear in a way she had never experienced him before.

"Why would you cut your hair in the first place?" He half growled, half whispered. Hermione was startled to discover how close Harry was to her. "You should know I love you the way you are."

The words seemed dimmed coming from Harry's mouth, as if someone had turned the volume down, but then she realized fully what he had said. She gasped, "Harry!", and turned to look at him.

It was the wrong thing to do.

She realized her mistake just as their lips connected, pressing themselves against each other. For the longest moment she felt surprised, shocked, and…and warm. Looking into Harry's eyes she something that frightened her, yet excited her greatly at the same time. She blushed even more as she realized that the glazed over, hungry look in Harry's eyes was making her body tingle with warmth and excitement.

_No!_

She tried to pull away, but something was holding her pinned against him, and she felt the first few strands of panic leap into her…Harry wouldn't…Her eyes seemed to clear, and she saw her eyes twined firmly and tightly around Harry's neck; he was softly stroking her blushing cheek, and she realized that the kiss hadn't lasted as long as she thought…but then…but…Looking up at Harry she still saw the hungry, glazed over look in his eyes, and found herself growing warm and tingly again.

Her lips seemed to have a life of their own, and she would have given anything to have taken back what escaped from them. "Kiss me, Harry, _please._"

And Harry obliged, kissing her deeply; she resisted for a moment, but was the logical, rational side of her was soon washed away by the great river of raging hormones, long suppressed desires, and a hungry love.

Some time later, perhaps an hour or two, Harry and Hermione walked back towards the front doors of the castle, although not from underneath the dark oak where it had all stared. _Anyone could have seen us from there, _she thought, blushing deeply as she reflected on the past hours. They were both silent, walking up to the castle. When they reached the doors, Harry stopped; she squeezed his hand tightly.

"I liked your hair better before, " Harry started, and she gave him a sour, angry look. How could he say that after…after…well after all that…She blushed again. "But if you like it, I guess that's the important thing."

She beamed at him, and leaned up to kiss him. A gasp made her pulls her lips off of his; Ron and Ginny were standing in the doorway, looking thunderstruck.


End file.
